


Thaw

by M J Holyoke (wholeyolk)



Category: Frozen (Disney Movies)
Genre: Character is aroused as side effect of being the target of magic, F/F, Fluff and Smut, Inaccurate Rumors, Magic, POV Original Female Character, The First Annual Femslash Kink Exchange 2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-19
Updated: 2020-06-19
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:21:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24686035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wholeyolk/pseuds/M%20J%20Holyoke
Summary: In the sun-drenched lands far to the south of Arendelle, she was known as The Snow Queen. If she gave you one kiss it would make you immune to the ravages of the cold, and a second kiss would make you forget your family. If she gave you a third kiss, or so the stories said, you would die.Beatrice herself never gave any particular credit to such rumors.
Relationships: Elsa (Disney)/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 18
Collections: The First Annual Femslash Kink Exchange 2020





	Thaw

**Author's Note:**

  * For [weakinteraction](https://archiveofourown.org/users/weakinteraction/gifts).



“Can you do it, Elsa? Can you make the cold go away?”

The voice was that of a young woman, and she sounded anxious. It was not, Beatrice decided, a familiar voice. In fact, she would swear she’d never heard that voice before in her life. Beatrice struggled to move or to speak—who was this woman, she wanted to ask, and who was this “Elsa” she was talking to?—but for some strange reason her body refused to obey her commands.

“I can try,” said a different, more mature sounding woman’s voice. “Hmm, let’s see . . .”

And that’s how it began.

* * *

In the sun-drenched lands far to the south of Arendelle, she was known as The Snow Queen. If she gave you one kiss it would make you immune to the ravages of the cold, and a second kiss would make you forget your family. If she gave you a third kiss, or so the stories said, you would die.

Beatrice herself never gave any particular credit to such rumors. As far as she was aware, Queen Anna and King Kristoff ruled Arendelle, and if Arendelle did, once upon a time or whenever it was, have a Snow Queen on the throne, well, it had nothing to do with common people like Beatrice.

Beatrice was a trader who had made a tidy profit in her youth buying silks and spices in bulk in the east and selling them in lands where such commodities were rare and much in demand. Now a woman grown, Beatrice had her own staff and a small fleet of merchant vessels, and she’d recently expanded her operations to Northuldra, trading forged metal and glass products hauled up from the south for rare furs and Northuldran folk art. The Northuldrans, who had been living in isolation for a generation, welcomed the opportunities Beatrice’s business afforded.

It was all going so well; Beatrice couldn’t have been more pleased. She’d already made several successful trips to and from Northuldra. It was on the return leg of her fourth trip that she got caught in an avalanche.

* * *

The first feeling, perhaps paradoxically, was of intense heat. Beatrice’s eyes flew open, and she gasped.

“Whoa! Hey there—relax! Don’t try to move!” It was the younger woman’s voice. She hadn’t been just a figment of Beatrice’s imagination after all. “We pulled you out of an avalanche. You nearly died!”

The faces of two women hovered above her. One had red hair; the other was blonde. They were obviously sisters. Beatrice blinked, but she couldn’t quite convince her mouth to form words. Who were they? And what was this heat?! The heat, it was—!

“Oh, thank goodness,” said the red-haired sister. She was the one with the young voice, evidently. “She’s going to be all right, don’t you think, Elsa? I got to go tell Kristoff. He’ll be so happy!”

“Yes, why don’t you do that? And you should go get some rest, too,” said the blonde-haired sister. She was the older one with the lower, more mature voice, and she was . . . wow. She was _gorgeous_. “I’ll stay here and look after our patient.”

“Yep, sure,” said the red-haired sister, waving a hand distractedly. She wasn’t really listening.

But her sister was quick to remind her: “ _Rest_ , Anna!”

Wait, did she say Anna? As in Queen Anna of Arendelle? But Beatrice hadn’t been all that close to Arendelle’s borders when she’d—

“The Northultrans pulled you from the snow, but they knew you’d die without magical intervention. We had you brought back to the castle in Arendelle, where I could give you my undivided attention. Oh, I’m Elsa, by the way,” said Elsa.

“I, um . . . I see,” said Beatrice. She felt much stronger, more herself. And she was staring openly at Elsa, she knew, but she couldn’t help herself. The Snow Queen—the stories had never mentioned her beauty. Beatrice could feel her cheeks flushing, and it wasn’t just from the embarrassment. She squirmed beneath the heavy coverlet; something was . . . was . . . “I feel strange,” she said at last. _I feel horny_ , she didn’t say.

But Elsa seemed to catch the drift anyway. “It may be a side effect of my magic,” she admitted. She glanced at the closed door, as if checking to make certain her sister wasn’t going to barge back in. “It’s nothing life-threatening, but it will need dealing with in the usual way. If you like, I can give you a moment of privacy to—”

“Or you could help me deal with it,” suggested Beatrice boldly, capturing Elsa’s hand in hers and pulling Elsa towards her. She wouldn’t have done it were Elsa not so beautiful. And kind. And magical. And . . .

And indeed, Elsa was remarkably obliging. Beatrice was already so warm and wet between her legs; she was already close. She guided Elsa’s hand down to where she needed her, and Elsa’s fingers slid inside Beatrice easily, stretching her sweetly, whilst her thumb drew strong, circles around the swollen nub of Beatrice’s clitoris. She came that way the first time on Elsa’s hand, clutching Elsa’s wrist as her world quaked and shook.

They took a slower pace after that, exploring each other’s bodies at leisure. Elsa was less experienced than Beatrice might have expected, and she was exquisitely responsive. She whimpered and bit the inside of her arm when Beatrice licked her nipples, and she was shrieking and bucking by the time Beatrice had worked her way down to her vulva. Ah, Elsa had a nice clitoris—perfect for sucking and licking. Which Beatrice did avidly. And she kept on going until Elsa too achieved orgasm, warm and wet as Beatrice herself and not the least bit like the stories of The Snow Queen.

At some point, true, she did freeze the door shut so that they wouldn’t be disturbed. But there wasn’t anything like that in the stories.

Privacy assured in any case, they kissed and caressed and cuddled one another, flesh on flesh, limbs intertwined. On second thought, Beatrice realized, there may have been some truth to those stories after all: The first of Elsa’s kisses _had_ banished the cold, and the second had made Beatrice forget about everything but how perfectly wonderful it was in Elsa’s embrace.

As for that third kiss? Well, in the days and weeks and months to follow, Beatrice stayed on in Arendelle, transferring her business’s base of operations to a lovely building overlooking the harbor. When she wasn’t working, she never left Elsa’s side. And although Beatrice didn’t actually know if it was possible to die of sheer happiness, she thought she might be willing to find out.


End file.
